


and yet the day goes on

by spanishmonkeys



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Micah Bell Being an Asshole, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), Period-Typical Sexism, Red Dead Redemption 2 Spoilers, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:02:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28659177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spanishmonkeys/pseuds/spanishmonkeys
Summary: She still has so much more to learn.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

There are a few things, Jenny supposes, that make the outlaw life unpredictable.

Sure, most of it consists of the arduous camp chores, overseen by Miss Grimshaw's steely gaze and iron fist. But there's also the constant moving, running from the law, and the endless robberies, each one unique in their own way.

Jenny had been picked up only a few months ago, but she's already neatly settled into the routine, like she's been there for years. The gang members are quickly becoming what she'd call family; the camaraderie between them is more than what she'd had with the one that had unceremoniously dumped her on the roadside all those months ago.

The camp is nicely situated; close enough to Blackwater to not make travel a hassle. The trees provide enough cover from the wind and rain, and any city folk who might peer up at the cliff the camp is staked upon. The view is stupendous, and the plains are filled with game. Money is hard to come by, but the people are well fed and happy, so she is too.

It's tough, but Jenny wouldn't have it any other way.

\-----

When the opportunity arises, Jenny jumps at the chance to participate in the first big robbery since her arrival to the gang. A ferry job; Micah's idea. Supposedly a lot of money is being hauled from Blackwater to Saint Denis, but it's risky. They need to play it right, else things are going to go wrong, or so Dutch says. And playing it right includes looking the part.

So Jenny dresses up like a fancy society lady, all ruffled skirts and expensive hat (no doubt stolen from some unsuspecting snob). The men dress up as well, and they ride into Blackwater, spirits high.

They manage to get on board with no difficulty; Jenny's sweet smile and charismatic charm works wonders. They split up once on the boat, half of them spreading out to keep an eye on the crowd while Jenny, Dutch, Micah, and Javier head upstairs to where the money is located.

Everything goes smoothly.

She's taking money from the safes when she hears a shout, then a voice yelling "Dutch! Quickly!". Then she hears a loud bang. She whips around to see a pool of blood, and a smoking gun.

Dutch had shot someone. A woman, not much younger than Jenny. She had a baby in her arms. It fell to the ground as the mother's body crumpled. The ringing in Jenny's ears drowns out the sound of the baby's cries.

And then everything goes to hell.

Chaos erupts on the boat, from both passengers and outlaws alike. People rush around in blind panic, screams and distressed shouts adding to the din of gunshots. Jenny stumbles out to the top deck where she joins Javier, Dutch, and Micah. She distantly hears Dutch shout to grab the money and go. Javier tosses her a gun taken from the corpse of a guard. She manages to catch it and runs after the others.

They run down a long section of hallway, rooms on one side, lake on the other. A great rush of passengers burst out of a room, jostling Jenny to the side of the railing.

She isn't quite sure what happens next.

She loses sight of Javier in front of her, obscured by a flurry of coattails.

Pain explodes in her shoulder.

She has no time to scream before she feels a rough shove.

Then she is weightless.

Jenny doesn't know how long it's been when she comes to, but she's aware that there's someone with her. She feels their presence more than she sees or hears them, the ringing of her ears and fuzziness of her vision drowning everything out. There are hands on her shoulder, grabbing and pulling. It burns hotter than the flames of hell.

She passes out again.

\-----

Jenny is in the doctor's office when she regains consciousness. Her clothes are bloodied and stiff with dried mud. Her hair is a mess. She would have snapped at the doctor's pitying look if she hadn't felt so lightheaded. She doesn't need him to inform her she's been shot; the excruciating pain in her shoulder tells her everything. She is surprised however, to learn that she almost drowned.  
"You would have died if not for him," the doctor says, gesturing to a man sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. He is tall, with dark hair and a kind smile. He stands up and expresses his relief at seeing her alive and awake. Jenny thanks him politely, eyeing his clean and neatly pressed three piece suit; not a wrinkle to be seen.

When she gets up to leave, the doctor gives her a roll of bandages and simple instructions to visit him once a week. "Free of charge, on account of your saviour," he says.

She has half a mind to rob her "saviour".

When they both exit the building, he asks Jenny if she has anywhere to go. With no money, and the gang most certainly running for the hills by now, she has no choice. Fighting past her reluctance, she swallows her pride and asks for charity.

She spins a line; her husband had died in the commotion on the boat, all her money stolen or otherwise at the bottom of the lake. Her home too far away. The man doesn't pity her. He gives her a look of understanding, of empathy, and hands her a generous wad of cash. He promises to check in on her and keep her company as often as he can.

Soon enough she's situated at the Blackwater hotel with new clothes to boot.

She learns from the other hotel residents that a massive shootout had occurred in the streets after she had been shot. "Between the Pinkertons and a dangerous outlaw gang," one woman says, shaking her head disapprovingly. A pang goes through Jenny's heart at that.

Her family is missing; they probably think she's dead. She doesn't consider herself particularly religious, but she prays to whatever god exists that everyone made it out okay.

\-----

She should've known. Should have seen the goddamn signs.

The first time it didn't happen, Jenny was unconcerned. The second time had her a little worried. Now, a month later, this is the third time. She's forced to admit what she doesn't want to believe. She curses herself and her stupidity.

Micah had asked, and Jenny said yes. Now she's paying the price.

She continues her visits to the doctor, but now for two reasons instead of one. She tries to hide it from the kind man, but of course he eventually notices, and his concern for her increases. He visits her more often, offering Jenny all she would want and more.

She feels sick.

She knows he means well, but every mention of it makes her despise it more. She so desperately wants to get rid of it, but she knows she can't. Not while these people know about it. Not while her shoulder is still healing and needs a doctor's attention.

She avoids the kind man's questions as best she can, remaining faithful to her lies. He understands her reluctance, blissfully ignorant at the same time, and stops asking.

Another month passes. She notices the passers-by staring to stare and the whisper every time she leaves the hotel. A woman with child and no husband? Even with her sob story, she might as well throw her life away. Despite Blackwater being so big, rumors travel fast. She stops going out. The doctor comes to her instead.

Jenny spends most of her time sitting next to the window, watching folk go about their day. Unconcerned. Each with their own trivial problems, unaware of (or maybe ignoring) the suffering of those less fortunate.

She wants to scream.

But she doesn't. She continues to quietly sit next to the window, desperately trying to ignore the existence of the parasite growing inside of her.

She receives a welcome distraction, however, when she notices something through the window. Standing on the street below, was a man; looking up at the hotel. She initially mistakes him as the kind man, due to their similar height and expensive clothing. But upon closer inspection, she realizes this is not the person that visits her every week. This man is not kind, she knows in her gut. Then her blood freezes.

He is looking directly at her.

His eyes are black. Cold; expressionless. Jenny can't tear her gaze away. Dread pools in the pit of her stomach. Her feet are rooted to the floor.

A sudden knock at the door jolts her from her trance. The doctor is here. She blinks in surprise, and the man on the street is gone.

The checkup is the same as all the others. Everything is going smoothly, Jenny is told, but there's still cause to be wary. Getting shot and almost drowning while pregnant is not going to help matters.

She hates that word. She never wants to hear it again.

But the more days that pass, the more desperate she becomes. She needs to leave, to get rid of this... thing.

She convinces herself that it's not too late. She can still get rid of it. There's still time.

There's still time.

\-----

Three months early.

She is told they are both extremely lucky to be alive. She doesn't feel lucky.

Over the next few days, the city of Blackwater starts to close in; looming over her. The burden she carries becomes heavier and heavier. She feels her patience wearing thin with every noise it makes. She longs to let it go, to leave it behind a tree or on a doorstep, to be rid of it and never make the same mistake again.

After some thought, Jenny decides to go to Saint Denis. With a city that big, surely there'll be an orphanage. If not, then maybe some poor couple will take pity on an abandoned baby and raise it with the love and care she could never give it.

Jenny doubts it. The city is harsh and unforgiving. But she has to try.

So with nothing left for her in Blackwater, she makes preparations to leave. She gives her sincerest thanks to the kind man, and smiling, he hands her enough money for food and a few train tickets in return.

She's glad she never robbed him.

\-----

She's in the Valentine station, waiting for the next available train to Saint Denis when she sees Arthur.

He's heading toward the message board, when a jolt of recognition runs through her as she spots the backside of that familiar worn jacket and black gambler's hat.

She jumps up and calls out his name, elation rushing through her like a tidal wave. Arthur's head twists back and forth in confusion, trying to locate the source of the voice. Then he turns around and their eyes meet.

She catches a flurry of emotions run across Arthur's face. Shock, disbelief, joy, and then to something completely unreadable as his eyes shift to the bundle in her arms.

Even when he brings her in for a hug, careful not to jostle her too much, he doesn't mention it. Neither does she. It doesn't matter right now. Saint Denis will have to wait. She's alive, after all.

\-----

The ride to camp is quieter than she expected. There's no important words exchanged between either of them, but every step towards their destination makes Jenny's heart beat that much faster. The disturbance makes the being clutched close to her chest stir and whimper.

Blackwater, Saint Denis, or camp. Too many people, too many obligations to uphold. She feels like the whole of society and the world itself is closing in on her.

Arthur doesn't comment when she presses her head against his back and vehemently curses Micah's name.

Arthur doesn't comment, but Jenny feels him go still.

In the end, they only enter camp when Jenny feels ready.

She is greeted by a bustle of activity once someone realizes she's there, and is soon swarmed by what seems like the whole camp. She hears Karen's gleeful whoops above the chatter; Javier gifts her a small hug. Even Bill had seemed to shed his surliness, drink in hand and welcoming her back just like the others. Arthur holds her current charge a ways away from the commotion, giving her a much-needed respite from the unwanted responsibility. Dutch's voice booms across the clearing they've set up camp in, calling for a celebration. Micah is nowhere to be seen.

Jenny doesn't answer most of the questions she gets during the party. By now everyone has noticed the newcomer, and Jenny feels like she's made of glass. Javier struggles to sympathize with her, John awkwardly avoids the subject (which makes it more obvious he's trying to avoid it), and Lenny seems to have disappeared entirely. Mary-Beth poses a few well-meaning and innocent questions but Jenny politely turns her down.

She likes Mary-Beth, but she can't bring herself to talk about it.

She never wanted it. Never did.

Hosea eyes her from across camp the whole night, his gaze unreadable. Later, when the fire turns to embers and most are sleeping off the whiskey, Hosea comes to her and gives her nothing more than a reassuring hand on her shoulder and an invitation to talk anytime.

For the first time in a long while, Jenny feels at ease.

\-----

Eventually, over the next few days, camp settles down into the usual routine. The return to mundane chores is something Jenny does not miss; especially with the addition of the tiny new member of the gang. Miss Grimshaw lets her off the hook more than usual, which she begrudgingly acknowledges is one thing to be thankful for. She just wishes it was any other excuse.

One day she overhears Dutch coerce Arthur into rescuing Micah, who had gotten himself arrested in Strawberry. A part of her wishes Arthur would put his foot down and refuse. Another part wants her to stomp up to Dutch and demand he let Micah hang.

Instead, Jenny sits quietly next to her living, breathing responsibility while she mends clothing. Her hands are shaking and the stitching is haphazard and sloppy. With a sigh, she sets to redoing it all.

Micah be damned, she'll get it right. Eventually.

She'll give herself a second chance and make the most of it.

That, Jenny supposes, is what makes life so unpredictable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to delete and reupload because of a few bugs posting the second chapter, but things SHOULD be okay now lol


	2. Chapter 2

All in all, life is pretty good, according to Micah's standards. He does what he wants, when he wants without regard for consequences. He gets to rob and kill his way across the country, reveling in the gunfights and blood-pumping chases from his enemies. He spends his money on things he likes (though he wishes he had more of it). The gang he's currently riding with isn't half bad, either. It needs some serious trimming though. Too many useless people. Too many mouths to feed. Better to let the weak go so the strong can fight on unhindered. 

But for now though, he's content to stay.

After all, one the reasons he's here in the first place is Dutch. That man has a bounty higher than anyone else's, and it's definitely the kind of money Micah wants to get his hands on. Either that or the Blackwater money, which is becoming increasingly unlikely. The Pinkertons swarming the city and Dutch's mistrust of him are the biggest barriers, but those can come down in time. He just needs to be patient and clever about it. 

Dutch will come around sometime, he knows it.

\-----

Micah rides into camp sometime before Arthur, noticing his horse is not among the others grazing on the outskirts of camp. He leaves Baylock to join them and goes to deposit the gang's share of money from the last job. He wishes he had that wagon to bring in, but alas, O'Driscolls. The cash he's gotten from it, however, is more than enough. Dutch will still be pleased.

As he walks through camp he receives no welcome from the others; rather, what little looks thrown his way are filled with contempt and annoyance. Micah feels a twinge of irritation himself. 

Here he is, providing for them. The least they could do is thank him.

He settles in and life goes on unchanged. However, as the hours pass, he senses a buildup of tension in the air. People are still giving him looks, but they're different. Less annoyance; more apprehension. A certain kind of uneasiness. Something must have happened while he was gone. 

He ignores it. It's not his problem. It isn't until Dutch approaches him, expression pensive, that he realizes it might be his problem. Dutch welcomes him back first, fiddling with the cigar in his hand. Micah waits patiently through the small talk, though he's starting to get uneasy himself.

Eventually, in a low voice, Dutch gives him the news. 

Micah feels his stomach drop and blood run cold.

It must have shown on his face, for Dutch puts a hand on his shoulder in reassurance. He barely feels it. 

He... he has a child.

Something he thought he'd never get to have. A son to follow in his footsteps, to carry on the Bell legacy. He briefly entertained the possibility after his time with Jenny, but dismissed the notion quickly enough. But now...

Dutch gently claps him on the shoulder again, jolting him back to reality. He's giving him a speech, Micah realizes a little too late. Something about support or whatever. Dutch's droning voice, the frantic thoughts swirling through his head, the hand on his shoulder, everything is getting to be too much. Micah feels rooted the spot, claustrophobic. If this goes on any longer he just might snap.   
Before Micah could do anything however, Dutch finishes his speech and withdraws, giving him a look he can't quite place before disappearing into his tent.

He stands there for a moment, hands balled into fists to keep them from shaking. Then he kicks himself into moving. He heads towards the ladies' tent first, breath ragged and uneven. He can see Jenny, who's kneeling on the ground, washing clothes. He stops in front of her. She looks up and her expression turns to stone. Micah's gaze wanders from her to the bundle of blankets lying innocently further away. He can see a small pink face peeking out from between the folds, sleeping peacefully.

Micah swallows the lump in his throat. "I-Is he.....?"

Jenny looks him dead in the eyes.

"She, actually."

\-----

He avoids the baby in the coming months. He doesn't look at it, and pretends not to hear it when it cries, despite so desperately wanting to shout at Jenny to make it stop. 

He can't help the disappointment that floods through him whenever he thinks about it.

He wanted a son. Micah Bell the Fourth. He should have known it wasn't meant to be. The girl carries his family name, but it tastes bittersweet. She'll grow up and marry, and his name will be gone. Just like his brother Amos, with his daughters. The Bell legacy, destined to die.

If anyone at camp notices his unusually reticent behaviour, they don't comment on it. Dutch mistakes his disappointment for fear, and tries giving him another rousing speech. Your family needs you, Micah is told, and he isn't sure whether to scoff or pretend to be moved. Family is a weakness, a foolish emotional attachment that will only hinder. Family exists to bring the next generation into the world, and to teach it how to survive each day. Nothing more. His own father was a testament to that. 

As time continues Jenny eventually gets sick of his avoidance and starts dumping the child in his care. He bites back a scathing complaint every time, lest Dutch or Morgan catch wind. He needs to prove he's trustworthy; that he's not like John.

Micah doesn't particularly like him or Jack, but abandoning a son to be raised solely by a woman is crossing the line. Arthur knows it too, judging by the way he treats John when they cross paths. Micah isn't a coward. He will contribute. And he'll prove it to everyone. 

So he begrudgingly accepts the child when she's given to him without complaint, keeping her company when her mother is too busy to do so. He ignores the way she stands shakily and uncomfortably in his lap. He ignores the way she grabs his mustache and tries to eat his hair. He only half listens to her nonsensical babbling, humming noncommittally whenever she pauses.

He always makes sure they're alone when he hesitantly returns her smiles.

While the years pass, Micah fights with himself. As with the case of having a daughter, he's shunted to the role of provider. But he longs for the chance to teach his child how to survive; how the world works. The chance to become a role model. However, this world is no place for a girl; his own father never tired of reminding him that. Though a tiny part of him refuses to listen.

One day he sits across from her at the campfire, watching her use a long stick to playfully poke at the dying embers. He takes the moment to study her face in detail. He notes the sharpness of her nose, her defined jawline, her icy blue eyes. His eyes. 

Micah notices how the others react to her. He's never there, never interfering, but still watching and listening. They treat her like they do Jack, all polite (if a bit awkward) speech, and with a friendly enough demeanor. But as she runs off to play, they reveal their masked expressions, as if they're too strong to contain. Micah sees their uneasiness, and he knows exactly why.

They look at her, and see him.

As soon as she's old enough to use one, Micah gifts her a slingshot. He teaches her how to use it in his free time, using empty bottles as targets. He can't help the pride that bubbles up inside him when she hits every one dead on. By the time she moves on to guns, she'll be a real crackshot. 

He pats her on the back and she looks up at him, smiling ear to ear.

He's getting used to this.

\-----

Most of his time on Guarma is spent guarding their makeshift camp, and it leaves him time to think.

He thinks about the mess they're in, all because of that failed bank job. Things were going so well, too. But then, there were more cops around than usual, and the Pinkertons showed up way too fast for it to be coincidental. Someone must have known they were going to rob it. 

Oh well. What's done is done; no use worrying about it now.

His thoughts turn to his daughter, all the way back in Lemoyne. She's surely safe; her and the others would've had to pack up and move camp after that whole fiasco. 

She could probably take care of herself; he made sure to teach her how to survive on her own as early as possible, once the need arises.

Micah snorts to himself. 

A lone girl, not yet thirteen, with her father either missing or presumed dead. For most people, that would be considered a tragedy. Although, he supposes, it's a lot more common than one might think.

Finally, he thinks about Dutch. The man has been acting awfully erratic recently. The pressure of keeping twenty people alive and organized must be getting to him. Not to mention Hosea's death. He was way too attached to someone who was dying anyway, Micah believes. But, this could be the perfect opportunity. Dutch's resolve is weakening, leaving room for him to slide in and act the puppetmaster. He'll convince Dutch to lead the two of them to the Blackwater money, and then he'll turn Dutch in, cashing in on that hefty bounty. 

He vows to continue twice as hard as soon as they get off the island.

For now though, he swats the irritating bugs away, listens to the calls of birds he doesn't recognize, and shuffles against the pillar he's leaning on. 

Arthur will be done dealing with those workers soon. Then they'll find a way to escape this hell. 

\-----

Micah is the first one to find the gang holed up in Lakay. He's irritated, but not surprised, when the only welcome he gets are questions asking about the others who have yet to arrive. 

At least his daughter is happy to see him, and greets him warmly. He squashes down the impulse to hug her, and instead limits himself to a hand on her shoulder.

He's relieved to know she's safe and alive.

But inevitably, it's only a matter of time before the Pinkertons find them again.

  
Beaver Hollow is not the most ideal of camping spots, considering it's in the middle of Murfree country, but it does the job well enough.

Inside camp however, things are starting to unravel. Every job they pull seems to go wrong more often, with less money being brought in. Tension is running high, and everyone is drifting into two sides. Time is running out. 

Micah can feel it; he's so close. Dutch is primarily turning to him for counsel. Morgan and Marston are being pushed farther and farther away. Soon, very soon, he'll have the Blackwater money and Dutch's bounty. He'd even be willing to share some of it with his daughter (although it would be a much smaller portion). They would live out the rest of their days in comfort, robbing and killing their way across the country, like a pair of wild horses.

One day he sees Morgan pull her to the side, conversing with her in hushed tones. 

The sight fills him with rage.

He knows Arthur is trying to convince her to leave. He's been doing that to everyone who will listen; he's not as subtle as he thinks he is. How dare he assume he knows what's best. 

She must remain by her father's side. She still has yet to see the world, to reap the benefits of this way of life. He still has so much more to pass on.

Time stands still when Micah finds himself facing his daughter with Dutch by his side. Everyone's guns are raised, though she's pointedly aiming at Dutch rather than him. Still, the fact she's standing with Arthur and John, after all these years, cuts deeper than any knife.

He snarls, he bargains with her, tries to get her back on his side. She says nothing. His desperation builds to the breaking point, but they're interrupted by a hail of bullets.

Pinkertons.

Everyone dives for cover, but he hesitates for the slightest moment. It's enough for a bullet to graze his arm.

Micah gives a strangled yell of pain and frustration. He curses himself, he curses Arthur Morgan, he curses his daughter- no, the girl, and runs toward his horse where the others are waiting. 

Dutch is calling him.

\-----

In the years that pass, he tries not to think about her. It is inevitable though, as is the tide, ever pushing and pulling. On those days, his mood nosedives. He finds himself turning to the bottle more often. He kills more frequently, more gruesome deaths than usual. He sleeps even less than he normally does; the prospect of his nightmares getting even worse is not something he wants to endure.

If anyone in his gang notices the behaviour, they don't comment. They wouldn't bother risking their lives over something so trivial.

In the end, Micah wins. That's all that matters. He has the Blackwater money, with a group of ferocious outlaws at his command and Dutch by his side. He can finally collect that bounty and get the Pinkertons out of his hair for good. 

The past doesn't want to be forgotten so easily though, much to his chagrin.

The alarm is raised, and gunshots could be heard firing in the distance. It doesn't take long for him to realize he's being attacked. John Marston and three others, he's told, and he barks out a laugh.

Marston likely wants revenge for Arthur's death. How pathetic. One measly emotional attachment is going to cost him a bullet to the face, Micah will see to that.

Everything starts out smoothly. He's got John where he wants him; the others that came with him either injured or dead. It doesn't matter though, now it's just the two of them.

Until it isn't.

He sees a second gun trained at him out of the corner of his vision, and the voice calling him makes his blood freeze.

It's his daughter. Older, and a lot more worse for wear. She has her free hand clasped over her stomach, blood seeping out from the wound she's trying to cover. She's breathing heavily, but her face is that of grim determination. 

The cold of the mountain air is nothing compared to the cold metal of the gun shoved at Micah's back. He walks forward almost without meaning to, mind still reeling. He talks to John without putting much thought in it; stalling for time, for an opportunity, for something.

When Dutch bursts out of the cabin, guns raised, Micah seizes his chance. His daughter is injured, she can easily be overpowered. He wrestles with her for a bit, but it isn't long until he has her locked in his grasp.

It almost feels normal, like nothing's ever changed, if he ignores the gun he's holding to her head. 

How he longs to have her back.

No. Damn it. He doesn't want her back. 

She cast her lot in with them; she's no survivor.

Distantly he hears a bang and drops her, and it takes Micah a second to figure out why.

He's been shot. By Dutch.

He isn't surprised. Life's all about winning and losing, and betrayal is just part of the game. Dutch must have gotten wise to his plans, or maybe just got tired of tolerating them. So he does what he does best: Go out shooting. John gets him first, though. Riddles his body with bullets; no chance of survival.

Well. That's that, then.

He turns to walk away, shrugs, and he feels his strength leave him. He falls over, and hits the ground hard. Through the haze of pain, (and quickly becoming more hazy than painful), he can see his daughter laying next to him. She's staring at him with anguish in her eyes, still breathing, still alive. He takes a final, long look at her face, studying her features intently.

Just as his vision fades to black, Micah has one last thought.

She looks nothing like him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to really stretch out the timeline for this to work but hey, that's what an au is for lol. I rewrote the ending to this three times, still unhappy with it, then said screw it, I'm going to post this anyway.


End file.
